from them, bouncing off the metal
walls. It surrounds me like Elara’s wretched whispers, ghosting into my
brain. Little lightning girl. It’s what she used to call me, what they cal ed me.
No. No, it isn’t.
Despite the pain, I straighten my spine, standing as tall as I can.
I am not little anymore.
The whispers follow us all the way to the medical station, where a
pair of Guardsmen keeps watch at the closed door. They’re also watch-
ing the ladder, a heavy metal thing reaching up into the ceiling. The
only exit and only entrance in this slow bullet of a ship. One of the
guards has dark red hair, just like Tristan, though he’s nowhere near
as tall. The other is built like a boulder, with nut-brown skin, angled
eyes, a broad chest, and massive hands better suited to a strongarm.
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They bow their heads at the sight of me but, to my relief, don’t spare me
much more than a glance. Instead, they turn their attentions to Kilorn,
grinning at him like school friends.
“Back so soon, Warren?” The redhead chuckles, waggling his eye-
brows in suggestion. “Lena’s gone off her shift.”
Lena? Kilorn tenses beneath my arm, but says nothing to betray his
discomfort. Instead, he laughs along, grinning. But I know him better
than any, enough to see the force behind his smile. To think, he’s been
spending his time flirting while I’ve been unconscious and Shade lies wounded and bleeding.
“The boy’s got enough on his plate without chasing pretty nurses,”
the boulder says. His deep voice echoes down the passage, probably
carrying all the way to Lena’s quarters. “Farley’s still making rounds, if
you’re after her,” he adds, jabbing a thumb at the door.
“And my brother?” I speak up, disentangling myself from Kilorn’s
supporting grip. My knees almost buckle, but I stand firm. “Shade Bar-
row?”
Their smiles fade, stiffening into something more formal. It’s
almost like being back in the Silver court. The boulder grips the door,
spinning the massive wheel lock so he doesn’t have to look at me. “He’s
recovering well, miss, er, my lady.”
My stomach drops at the title. I thought I was done with such
things.
“Please call me Mare.”
“Of course,” he replies without any kind of resolve. Though we are
both part of the Scarlet Guard, soldiers together in our cause, we are
not the same. This man, and many others, will never call me by my
given name, no matter how much I want them to.
He swings open the door with a tiny nod, revealing a wide but
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shallow compartment filled with bunks. Sleeping quarters at one time,
but now the stacked beds are full of patients, the single aisle buzzing
with men and women in white shifts. Many have clothes spattered with
crimson blood, too preoccupied setting a leg or administering medica-
tion to notice me limping into their midst.
Kilorn’s hand hovers by my waist, ready to catch me should I need
him again, but I lean on the bunks instead. If everyone’s going to stare
at me, I might as well try to walk on my own.
Shade props up against a single thin pillow, supported mostly by the
sloping metal wall. He can’t possibly be comfortable, but his eyes are
closed, and his chest rises and falls in the easy rhythm of sleep. Judging
by his leg, suspended from the ceiling of his bunk by a hasty sling,
and his bandaged shoulder, he’s surely been medicated a few times. The
sight of him so broken, even though I thought him dead just yesterday,
is shockingly hard to bear.
“We should let him sleep,” I murmur to no one in particular,
expecting no answer.
“Yes, please do,” Shade says without opening his eyes. But his lips
quirk into a familiar, mischievous smile. Despite his grim, injured fig-
ure, I have to laugh.
The trick is a familiar one. Shade would pretend to sleep through
school or our parents’ whispered conversations. I have to laugh at the
memory, remembering how many little secrets Shade picked up in this
particular way. I may have been born a thief, but Shade was born a spy.
No wonder he ended up in the Scarlet Guard.
“Eavesdropping on nurses?” My knee cracks as I sit on the side of
his bunk, careful not to jostle him. “Have you learned how many ban-
dages they’ve got squirreled away?”
But instead of laughing at the joke, Shade opens his eyes. He draws
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Kilorn and me closer with a beckoning hand. “The nurses
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